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Narrowing his eyes, his chest swells, as though he’s shielding his precious hotel from whatever dirt we’re treading in from the sidewalk.
Pretending not to notice, Ivy flashes him her press credentials, which only serves to melt his frozen smile into a watery scowl. “Mr. Addaman, we’d like a comment on the tragic passing of a young female guest of thisHeliostwo days ago.”
“We’re a hotel, Ms. Sanchez,” he says, glancing pointedly at the well-dressed patrons checking in either side of us, all clutching their Louis Vuitton. “We have thousands of guests through our door every year, and occasionally tragedies like this occur, through no fault of theHelios, I might add. I can assure you that the New York Police Department have conducted a thorough investigation and have concluded that no—”
“Is this your official response?” she interrupts, shoving her iPhone in his face.
“I’d prefer it if you spoke directly to our PR department about that.” Turning to the open-mouthed clerk at the front desk, he hisses out an order that has her diving under her desk for a card.
At the same time, Ivy leans over to me and whispers, “Guy’s a corporate stiff. We’ll get nothing but tight lips from Mr. Frigid. See if you can find the bar. I may need that Bloody Mary after all.”
Slipping away from the front desk, I head for the two shiny gold elevators over by the far wall. From there, I go to follow signs for theDaystar Brasseriewhen the front doors are flung open again, and all the air is sucked out into the sunshine. A huge shadow blows back in, trailing three men in black suits, and a willowy blonde in a red leather pantsuit worth a hundred times more than Ivy’s.
It takes me a second to recognize the shadow, and another to pray for the ground to open and swallow me whole.
Not today.
Not when I’m looking like roadkill.
Edier’s changed since I last saw him. For starters, he’s wearing clothes… An expensive black suit, black shirt and tie, and a murderous expression to match. He’s still just as beautiful, but there’s a cruel twist to his features, an unsmiling brutality that sends a shiver up and down my spine.
We haven’t spoken since the morning of my eighteenth birthday, and though I’d guessed correctly he’d leave before I woke, his second rejection broke something inside me.The bridge back seemed almost impassable after that, especially since we’ve been living in the same city and sharing the same sun. His ghosting seems even crueler somehow. His flat-out refusal to be in the same room as me has cut twice as deep.
He doesn’t see me cringing behind a bright green Pygmy Date Palm, but he spots Ivy right away.
“Getthatout of here,” he orders his men as he strides right past her, making everyone stare, including two of my bodyguards who are hovering by the concierge desk. “She’s Press. I can smell her bullshit a mile away. If we talk to anyone, we talk toThe PostandThe Times, not some piss-take of a media outlet likeThe Eagle.”
“Excuseme?” Instead of slinking back to her Honda Civic like he expect her to, Ivy grows an extra foot in height, purely from indignation. Nothing scares my friend, not even Edier Grayson. She once interviewed a Death Row inmate who was charged with seventeen murders and made him cry.
“Are you coming, Queenie?” Edier snaps at his companion, ignoring Ivy.
Queenie?
I find I can’t take my eyes off her, with that slash of red Chanel lipstick that’s more a hazard sign than a fashion statement. She looks like the kind of woman who eats Dalmatian puppies for breakfast, and then sends them to her sister, Cruella, to make fur coats out of the remains.
Maybe it’s the thought of her and Edier together—of him evenwantinga woman with such glacial superiority and addiction to leather—that pushes me out of my hiding place behind the Pygmy Date Palm and into the path of the lion.
“Leave her alone.” My softly spoken words have a whip crack effect that has everyone’s attention, including his. He stops dead in his tracks, his head snapping toward me. “Tell your men to back offright now, Edier. If they lay one finger on Ivy…”
I leave the threat hanging because there’s really only one thing I can do, and it will always be enough to make him to sit up and listen.
If he’s shocked to see me after so long, he doesn’t show it. He just stands there with his fists clenched and dark things swarming behind his eyes.
Behind him, his men have stopped their advance on Ivy to wait for his reaction. I catch one of them looking at me, and I instantly recognize him.Gabrio.He’s head of Edier’ssicarios, but he used to work directly for my father. I can tell from his expression that he’s already clocked my bodyguards too. We’re all fighting the same war, just in different battalions, and from the looks of it they clearly don’t speak to one another very often.
“Well, well, well.” Edier forces a cold smile as he swaggers toward me. “The reporter brought a spare. Or haven’t you made the cut yet, Ella? I gather you couldn’t stick it out at NYU so I don’t hold out much hope of seeing your name in print soon.”
His words sting like hell, but I force myself not to flinch. I’m not the girl I was before. I’m not the teenager who fell apart so easily in his hands.
“Nice to see you, too,” I counter smoothly. “Does my father know you’re stealing his style, or are you so stuck up his ass these days you had to send one of yoursicariosto steal it for you?”
“That’s an interesting assessment…” He slithers his wretched gaze over my outfit and smirks. “From a woman who clearly got dressed in the dark.”
“Go to hell, Edier. Stop being such a high-handed bastard.”
“Using bad words more frequently, are we?”
“I use a lot of things more frequently, including my right to call you out on your ridiculously autocratic behavior.”
